


Autolatry

by Culumacilinte



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Culumacilinte/pseuds/Culumacilinte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master is a firm believer in self-love</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autolatry

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: Delgado!Master/any Master, Autolatry - The worship of one’s self

'Oh,  _look_  at you, just look. At. You.’  
  
And the Master did more than just look; he promptly invaded his younger Self’s space, twisting catlike around him and dancing pleased, proprietary fingertips over the shoulder of his crisp, charcoal-grey suit. His other hand went immediately to his chin, thumb stroking down the neat goatee. What a novelty, to do so from the other side.  
  
‘And the beard, oh, with the little white stripes and everything; Rassilon, I was dashing in this body. And your  _eyes_!’ He made a little noise, frankly indecent given that all he was doing was looking. ‘Bloody hell, no-wonder I went around hypnotising everyone in sight, with eyes like those. What was the Doctor thinking? And speaking of hypnotism, remind me to tell you what I’ve pulled off, you are going to love it. You, my dear self, are a handsome bastard. Has anyone told you that lately?’  
  
The eyes he was so enamoured of crinkled generously at the corners, the younger Master’s whiskers bristling around an amused and indulgent smile. ‘Not lately, but I appreciate the sentiment.’  
  
The elder Master’s grin, in contrast, was wide and gleaming, and full of teeth. ‘Aaaaand, if I’ve got my timing right, and I  _know_  I have, because, frankly, me, hi.’ He widened his eyes, giving a sardonic little wave of one hand. ‘ _If_  I’ve got my time right,  _you_  are currently suffering from a hell of a case of blue balls, courtesy of that velvety idiot at UNIT, and I’ve got a hunch that I’m going to be really excellent at blowjobs in this body. Fancy giving it a test run?’  
  
He bounced on the balls of his feet. The younger Master, just for a moment, looked quite overwhelmed, his carefully cultivated cool cracked by the unexpected proposition. His older Self barked a laugh, and he collected himself again, giving himself an appraising little look.  
  
‘Very forward in this incarnation, I see. And manic, it would seem. Though,’ he tugged unnecessarily on one already-perfectly-straight cuff, one eyebrow lifting elegantly, ‘it does match the body, I’ll give you that. Not quite to our usual pattern.’  
  
‘No,’ the Master agreed, grinning. ‘Young and handsome, that’s what I wanted, and that is what I got. It’s good, don’t you think? Not the usual, but I felt like a change. And you’d be manic too.’ His expression took a brief detour away from indecently-pleased-with-himself to dry self awareness, and then quickly back again. ‘It is  _good_  to be me again.’  
  
The younger Master didn’t ask. There were times, after all, for interrogating future Selves, and this, he fancied, was not one of them. What he did instead was to step right into his Self’s space, so close that a deep enough inhalation from either of them might have had their chests brushing, and reach up to take him by the chin, leather pressing against smooth-shaven skin. Delicate features, a bit of a snub nose, intense hazel eyes given to squinting, as they were doing now. Yes, he thought. Not at all his usual, but not bad at all. And, he conceded, eyes flicking down, very nice lips.  
  
‘I’ll concede,’ he said, ‘our dear Doctor has left me… rather strained of late.’  
  
‘Aw, and I forgot how adorably prudish I was this time around, too.’ The elder Master pursed his mouth into a faintly mocking little moue, and the younger, feeling that at least some token refutation of his so-called prudishness was required, slid his thumb up to cover his lips. Other fingers curling around his jawline, he pressed his thumb against the lower lip hard enough to feel the shape of the teeth behind it, hard enough that it must surely hurt at least a little. The older Master only smiled, showing off sharp little canines.  
  
As it turned out, the elder Master had been entirely correct in his assessment; he was excellent at blowjobs. And those lovely pink lips of his looked even better stretched and flushed and shiny with spit. The younger Master, having come extravagantly down his Self’s throat, was content to lay on the couch for some moments, simply catching his breath, while the elder Master ran hands over his body, cooing breathy little praises of his broad chest, his arm muscles, his lips.  
  
The Master luxuriated in the appreciation, feeling very well-done-by indeed, though he was entirely unable to stop himself flushing and gasping when those compliments turned into far filthier ones, as the elder Master turned him over to fuck himself between his thighs, swearing and gasping worshipful adoration of his many excellent qualities.  
  
Afterwards, it was the younger Master who persuaded the elder to stay for a while. They sprawled in a sitting room of the Master’s TARDIS, the younger clad in a decadent brocade dressing gown, but otherwise entirely returned to his customary well-groomed neatness, with not a hair out of place nor so much as a blush on his cheek. The elder was completely, unashamedly naked, his hair a wild mess, eyes still glittering. Both were equipped with cigars and brandy.  
  
‘So,’ said the younger Master presently, through a mouthful of smoke, ‘I believe you were going to tell me about our latest plan?’  
  
The elder Master’s eyes flared. ‘Oh yes. Have you ever thought about remote hypnotism? You know, same effects without having to do the “you will obey me” schtick on every poor idiot you want under your control? Don’t answer, I know you haven’t. Well, I’ve done it. Hypnotism via satellite and mobile phone; I’ve got  _countries_  under my thumb. They’ve made me MOD. It’s gonna be Prime Minister next, and  _then_ , well.’ He grinned, huge and mad and gleaming.  
  
More slowly, but with infinite enjoyment in the expression, the younger Master smiled too, letting his head fall back against the chair and chuckling, long and pleased. When the laugh petered itself out, he turned his gaze– so intense in its pleasure as to be, appropriately, nearly hypnotic– on his Self.  
  
‘Oh, my dear,  _dear_  Master, I do like you.’  
  
The elder Master smirked, and blew a kiss.


End file.
